Captivated by You (Crossfire#4) (33 page)

Gideon settled on the couch beside me. “Now, we’re doing something about it.”

“The Hamptons would be closer. Or Connecticut.”

“It’s a quick hop down by jet.” He tipped my chin up with his finger and pressed his lips to mine.

“Don’t worry about the logistics,” he murmured. “We were happy there on the beach. I can still

picture you walking along the shore. I remember kissing you on the deck … spreading you across that

big white bed. You looked like an angel and that place, for me, was like heaven.”

“Gideon.” I rested my forehead against his. I loved him so much. “Where do we sign?”

He pulled back and slid the contract over, finding the first yellow
sign here
flag. His gaze roved over the coffee table and he frowned. “Where’s my pen?”

I stood. “I’ve got one in my purse.”

Catching my wrist in his hand, he tugged me back down. “No. I need my pen. Where’s the envelope

this came in?”

I spotted it lying on the floor between the couch and table, where I’d dropped it when I realized

what Arash had sent over. Picking it up, I realized it was still weighted and upended it over the table to let the rest of the items inside spill out. A fountain pen clattered onto the glass and a small photo floated out.

“There we go,” he said, taking the pen and slashing his signature on the dotted line. As he went

through the rest of the pages, I picked up the picture and felt my chest tighten.

It was the photo of him and his dad on the beach, the one he’d told me about in North Carolina. He

was young, maybe four or five, his small face screwed up in concentration as he helped his dad build a sand castle. Geoffrey Cross sat across from his son, his dark hair blowing in the ocean breeze, his face movie-star handsome. He wore only swimming trunks, showing off a body very much like the

one Gideon boasted today.

“Wow,” I breathed, knowing I was going to make copies of the image and frame one for each of the

places we lived in. “I love this.”

“Here.” He pushed the contract, with the pen lying atop it, over to me.

I set the photo down and picked up the pen, turning it over to see the
GC
engraved on the barrel.

“You superstitious or something?”

“It was my father’s.”

“Oh.” I looked at him.

“He signed everything with it. He never went anywhere without it tucked in his pocket.” He raked

his hair back from his face. “He destroyed our name with that pen.”

I set my hand on his thigh. “And you’re building it back up with the same pen. I get it.”

His fingertips touched my cheek, his gaze soft and shining. “I knew you would.”

1 5

“HIS-AND-HERS MASTER SUITE—a classic.” Blaire Ash smiled as his pen flew across the large notepad

clipped to a board.

His gaze lifted to roam the entirety of Eva’s bedroom in the penthouse, the one I’d had him design

specifically to look exactly like the room my wife had in her Upper West Side apartment.

“How big a change are you looking for?” the designer asked. “Do you want to start with a blank

slate, or are you just looking for the easiest structural change that will combine the two rooms?”

I left it to Eva to answer. It was difficult for me to participate, knowing this change was one neither of us really wanted. Our home would soon reflect how fucked up I was and how badly our marriage

was affected because of it. The whole exercise was like a knife in the gut.

She glanced at me, then asked, “What would the easy way look like?”

Ash smiled, revealing slightly crooked teeth. He was attractive—or so Ireland assured me—and

sported his usual attire of ripped jeans and a T-shirt under a tailored blazer. I couldn’t care less about his looks. What mattered was his talent, which I’d admired enough to hire him to decorate both my

office and my home. What I didn’t like was the way he was looking at my wife.

“We could simply adjust the layout of the master bath and knock out an arched entry through this

wall, effectively joining the two rooms via the bathroom.”

“That’s just what we need,” Eva said.

“Right. It’s quick and efficient, and the actual construction wouldn’t be all that disruptive to your lives. Or”—he went on—“I could show you some alternatives.”

“Like what?”

He moved to her side, so close that his shoulder pressed against hers. Ash was nearly as blond as

Eva, the image of them striking as he bent his head to hers.

“If we work with the square footage of all three bedrooms and master bathroom,” he replied,

speaking only to her as if I weren’t there, “I could give you a master suite that’s balanced on both sides. Both bedrooms would be the same size, with his-and-hers adjoining home offices—or sitting

room, if you prefer.”

“Oh.” She nipped absently at her lower lip for a second. “I can’t believe you sketched that up so

quickly.”

He winked at her. “Fast and thorough is my motto. And getting the job done so well that you think

of me when you want to do it again.”

I lounged against the wall, my arms crossing as I watched them. Eva seemed oblivious to the

designer’s double entendre. I was anything but.

The house phone rang and her head came up. She looked at me. “I bet Cary’s here.”

“Why don’t you get that, angel?” I drawled. “Maybe you should bring him up yourself, share your

excitement.”

“Yes!” She ran her hand over my arm as she hurried from the room, a fleeting touch that

reverberated through me.

I straightened, focusing on Ash. “You’re flirting with my wife.”

He stiffened abruptly, the smile leaving his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just

want Miss Tramell to feel comfortable.”

“I’ll worry about her. You worry about me.” I didn’t doubt that he questioned the arrangement

we’d consulted him to implement. Everyone who saw it would. What red-blooded man in his right

mind would have a wife like Eva, yet sleep not just in a different bed but a different room altogether?

The knife dug in a little deeper and twisted.

His dark eyes went flat and hard. “Of course, Mr. Cross.”

“Now, let’s see what you’ve sketched so far.”

“WHAT do you think?” Eva asked, between bites of pepperoni and basil pizza. She leaned over the

island, with one leg kicked up behind her, having chosen to stand on the opposite side from where

Cary and I sat.

I debated my reply.

“I mean the idea of a master suite with two mirroring sides is lovely,” she went on, wiping at her

mouth with a paper napkin, “but if we go the easy route, it’ll be faster. Plus we could close up the wall again one day, if we want to use the room for something else.”

“Like a nursery,” Cary said, shaking crushed red pepper onto his slice.

My appetite died and I dropped the slice I’d been eating onto my paper plate. Lately, eating pizza

at home hadn’t been working out for me.

“Or a guest room,” Eva corrected. “I liked what you talked to Blaire about for your apartment.”

Cary shot her a look. “Quick dodge.”

“Hey, you may have babies on your mind, but the rest of us have other things to check off our lists

first.”

She was saying exactly what I wanted her to say, but …

Did Eva have the same fears I did? Maybe she’d taken me as a husband because she couldn’t help

herself, but drew the line at taking me as a father to her children.

I carried my plate to the trash and tossed it in. “I have some calls to make. Stay,” I said to Cary.

“Spend time with Eva.”

He gave me a nod. “Thanks.”

Leaving the kitchen, I crossed the living room.

“So,” Cary began, before I stepped out of earshot, “hot-designer-dude’s got a thing for your man,

baby girl.”

“He does not!” Eva laughed. “You’re crazy.”

“No argument there, but that Ash guy barely glanced at you all night and kept his eyes glued on

Cross.”

I snorted. Ash had gotten the message, which reaffirmed my belief in his intelligence. Cary was

free to read that however he liked.

“Well, if you’re right,” she said, “I have to admire his taste.”

I headed down the hallway and entered my home office, my gaze landing on the collage of Eva’s

photos on the wall.

She was the one thing I couldn’t tuck neatly away in my mind. She was always at the forefront,

driving everything I did.

Settling down at my desk, I got to work, hoping to catch up on what I could so that the rest of the

week wouldn’t be thrown completely off. It took me a bit to get my head in the game, but once I did, I felt relief. It was a reprieve to focus on problems with concrete solutions.

I was making headway when I heard a yell from the living room that sounded like it had come from

Eva. I paused, listening. It was quiet a moment, and then I heard it again, followed by Cary’s raised voice. I went to the door and opened it.

“You could talk to me, Cary!” my wife said angrily. “You could tell me what’s going on.”

“You know what the fuck is going on,” he retorted, the edge in his tone drawing me out of my

office.

“I didn’t know you were cutting again!”

I moved down the hall. Eva and Cary squared off in the living room, the two friends glaring at each

other across the span of several feet.

“It’s none of your business,” he said, his shoulders high and chin canted defensively. He glanced at me. “Not yours, either.”

“I don’t disagree,” I replied, although that wasn’t quite true. How Cary self-destructed wasn’t my

concern; how it affected Eva was.

“Bullshit. That’s total fucking bullshit.” Eva’s gaze shot to me as she turned to bring me into their conversation. Then she looked back at Cary. “I thought you were talking to Dr. Travis.”

“When do I have time for that?” he scoffed, raking his hair back off his forehead. “Between my

work and Tat’s, plus trying to keep Trey, I don’t have time to sleep!”

Eva shook her head. “That’s a cop-out.”

“Don’t lecture me, baby girl,” he warned. “I don’t need your shit right now.”

“Oh my God.” She tipped her head back and looked at the ceiling. “Why the fuck do the men in my

life insist on shutting me out when they need me most?”

“Can’t speak for Cross, but you’re not around for me anymore. I’m getting by the best I can.”

Her head snapped down. “That’s not fair! You have to tell me when you need me. I’m not a damn

mind reader!”

Turning on my heel, I left them to it. I had problems of my own to work out. When Eva was ready,

she’d come to me and I would listen, being careful not to offer too much of my opinion.

I knew she didn’t want to hear that I thought she would be better off without Cary.

THE early-morning light slanted across the bed and caught the ends of Eva’s hair as she slept. The soft blond strands glowed like burnished gold, as if they were lit from within. Her hand curled gently on the pillow beside her beautiful face, the other tucked safely between her breasts. The white sheet was draped over her from hip to thigh, her tanned legs exposed by the tangle we’d made before falling

asleep.

I wasn’t a man given to whimsy, but at that moment my wife looked like the angel I believed she

was. I focused the camera on the sight she made, wanting to preserve that image of her for all time.

The shutter snapped and she stirred, her lips parting. I took another shot, grateful I’d bought a

camera that just might do justice to her.

Her eyelids fluttered open. “What are you doing, ace?” she asked, in a voice as smoky as her

irises.

I set the camera on the dresser and joined her in the bed. “Admiring you.”

Her lips curved. “How are you feeling today?”

“Better.”

“Better is good.” Rolling, she reached for her breath mints. She turned back to me smelling of

cinnamon. Her gaze slid over my face. “You’re ready to tackle the world today, aren’t you?”

“I’d much rather stay home with you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re just saying that. You’re itching to get back to global domination.”

Bending down, I kissed the tip of her nose. “You know me so well.”

It still amazed me how well she could read me. I was feeling restless, a bit shaky. Distracting

myself with work—seeing concrete progress made on any of the projects I was personally overseeing

—would ease that. Still, I pointed out, “I could work the morning at home, and then spend the

afternoon with you.”

She shook her head. “If you want to talk, I’ll stay home. Otherwise, I’ve got a job to get back to.”

“If you worked with me, you could cybercommute, too.”

“You’d rather push me on that, huh? That’s the tack you wanna take?”

I rolled onto my back and slung my forearm over my eyes. She hadn’t pushed me the day before and

I knew she wouldn’t push me today. Or tomorrow. Like Dr. Petersen, she’d wait patiently for me to